Untouchable
by Alyzandria
Summary: What if Liz, Max, Isabel, Alex, Michael, Maria(All aliens), and Kyle (human) were all Mafia children? What if Kyle screwed up a very important mob/government relationship and the six had to fix it? The real question is does the government know their sec


Untouchable Alyzandria Ker  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own it, I swear!!!!!!! Rating: R Category: M/L Summary: Max, Liz, Maria, Michael, Isabel, Alex, and Kyle are all Mafia children. Alyzaben (Liz) and her 22-year-old brother, Darious, are the children of the Italian/Hispanic mob boss, Dominic Castelli (who goes by the alias Jeff Parker) and Nancy McNally, the daughter of the head of the Irish Mafia. Maria is the daughter of Alijandra Castelli-DeLuca, Dominic's sister and the wife of Sebastian DeLuca, who is the head of the Italian Mafia. Manus Gurine the second is Miguel's (Michael) father and Alejandro's (Alex) uncle (Alex's parents passed away when he was nine), son of J. Gurine sr. (married to Maire (MOY-ra) McNally), who was John McNally's (Nancy Castelli/Parker's father) second-in-command. Michael's mother and Alex's aunt, is Alara Valenti Gurine. Max and Isabel are Javier Gomez's children. Javier (Who goes by Philip Evans) is the head of the Hispanic Mafia, and his wife is Diane Dahl, daughter of a multibillionaire entrepreneur. Kyle is the son of Jamie (Jim) Valenti, brother to Alara Valenti Gurine, (The Italian Mafia's second-in-command) and Sara-Evita Castelli Valenti, who is Dominic Castelli's sister. Xavara (ZAH-VAR-AH) Juanelo (22) is Darious' fiancée as well as the daughter of Montiago Juanelo (and Andrea Holden), the Spanish Mafia's second-in-command. Gnyhalliyah (en-YAWL-EE-ah) (Kyle's girlfriend) and Anderson Estube are the son and daughter of Italian/Hispanic mobster Cristobal Estube and his wife Suzana Gomez Estube. Max, Liz, Maria, Michael, Alex, Darious, and Isabel are also aliens. Max, Isabel, and Michael are truly siblings (by blood), and Maria, Alex, and Liz are truly siblings (by blood). Darious is a cousin of Liz, Maria, and Alex. They were found when they were approximately 5 years old. Here's some other information about the families: All aforementioned parties maintain residences in Roswell, NM, NYC, The Hamptons-Long Island, NY, Boston (Sudbury), MA, and Matapoiset in Antasawamic on the Cape in MA. All children attended boarding school from first grade and through the beginning of tenth grade. With the exclusion of Darious, Xavara, and Anderson, all are juniors at LS in MA (we are going to pretend that it is legal to drive by the age of sixteen in MA, not at the age of 16) Extremely rich Author's note: I apologize for this insanely confusing intro and all of the relationships, but in order for my story to work, this is how it had to be done. If anything at all is confusing, don't hesitate to e-mail me; I will clarify things. I also apologize for the enormous amount of Spanish used in this piece (all of which is translated for all who do not speak the language), yet I am most comfortable working in Spanish, though writing in English is quite enjoyable tambien. Please feel free to send feedback, but nothing too harsh! Constructive Criticism! Oh, I will be calling the Roswell characters by the names I gave to them, in context, that is. (I'll call Max and Liz "Max and Liz" as those would be the nick names for Alyzaben and Maximus. But Alex is Alje (AL-HEY) and Isabel (Isabella) will be either Izzy, Iz, or Chavela (which is the Hispanic nickname for Isabel/Isabella), Michael will be Miguel and Maria will be either Maria, Ri, Ria or Marinita (little Maria).) However, since their true names (as in their Roswell names) are their façades, they will be also be used.  
  
Direct Relationships  
  
FIRST GENERATION  
  
Maire and John McNally are siblings (see chart above for clarification)  
  
Maire McNally and James Gurine are married  
  
John McNally and Joan Smyth are married  
  
Antonio, Gregorio, Georgina, and Genarosa Castelli are siblings  
  
Maire Capone and Alberto Capone are siblings  
  
Antonio Castelli and Maire Capone are married  
  
Gregorio, Georgina, and Genarosa are deceased  
  
Nicholas and Roberto Estube are siblings  
  
Armanda and Christina Ramon are siblings  
  
Nicholas Estube and Armanda Ramon are married  
  
Roberto Estube is deceased  
  
Christina Ramon is deceased  
  
Isabella and Aliara Trejo are siblings  
  
Eduardo and Catalina Gomez are siblings  
  
Eduardo Gomez and Isabella Trejo are married  
  
Aliara Trejo is deceased  
  
Catalina Gomez is deceased  
  
Exavior and Gabriella Juanelo are siblings  
  
Miranda, Sari, Nicola, and Lucia Cervantez are siblings  
  
Exavior Juanelo and Miranda Cervantez are married  
  
Sari, Nicola, and Lucia are deceased  
  
SECOND GENERATION  
  
Dominic Castelli (Jeff Parker), Alijandra Castelli DeLuca, and Sara-Evita Castelli Valenti are siblings  
  
Nancy McNally is an only child  
  
Dominic Castelli and Nancy McNally are married  
  
Sebastian DeLuca is an only child  
  
Sebastian DeLuca and Alijandra Castelli are married  
  
Jamie (Jim) Valenti and Alara Valenti Gurine are siblings  
  
Jim Valenti and Sara-Evita Castelli Valenti are married  
  
Manus Gurine and Mary Gurine Holden are siblings  
  
Manus Gurine and Alara Valenti Gurine are married  
  
Jacob Holden and Andrea Holden Juanelo are siblings  
  
Jacob Holden and Mary Gurine are married (deceased)  
  
Montiago Juanelo is an only child  
  
Montiago Juanelo and Andrea Holden are married  
  
Suzana Gomez Estube and Javier Gomez (Philip Evans) are siblings  
  
Diane Dahl Gomez is an only child  
  
Javier Gomez and Diane Dahl are married  
  
Cristobal Estube is an only child  
  
Cristobal Estube and Suzana Gomez are married  
  
THIRD GENERATION  
  
Alyzaben (Liz) and Darious are siblings  
  
Isabella (Isabel) and Maximus (Max) are siblings  
  
Maria is the paternal cousin of Liz and Darious  
  
Miguel (Michael) is the maternal third cousin of Liz and Darious  
  
Alejandro (Alex) is the paternal cousin of Michael  
  
Kyle is the maternal cousin of Michael and Alex  
  
Gnyhalliyah and Anderson are siblings  
  
Gnyhalliyah and Anderson are the maternal cousins of Max and Isabel  
  
Xavara is the maternal cousin of Alex  
  
Therefore:  
  
Liz, Darious, and Maria are related  
  
Liz, Darious, and Michael are related (But Michael is NOT related to Maria)  
  
Michael, Alex, and Kyle are related  
  
Alex and Xavara are related  
  
Max, Isabel, Anderson, and Gnyhalliyah are related  
  
  
  
  
  
Did you give up?  
  
  
  
Did it get easier?  
  
Did all those things you wanted come together in the end?  
  
Was I the one?  
  
Was I even there?  
  
Did you ever really notice I never really cared?  
  
She smiled and looked at me and said:  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
I feel like nothing at all  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
What it's like  
  
What it's like  
  
Did you forget?  
  
  
  
Did you believe in it?  
  
Did all those things I promised come out empty in the end?  
  
Any regrets?  
  
Any dreams you miss?  
  
Comfort comes with patience,  
  
Serenity  
  
Yeah, yeah  
  
She smiled and looked at me and said:  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
I feel like nothing at all  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
What it's like  
  
What it's like  
  
I feel insignificant  
  
I feel nothing  
  
I feel insignificant  
  
Did you give up?  
  
Did it get easier?  
  
Every little word linking  
  
  
  
Slipped and fell  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
I feel like nothing at all  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
  
  
What it's like  
  
What it's like  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
What it's like  
  
  
  
You don't know what it's like  
  
What it's like  
  
I feel like nothing at all  
  
I feel like nothing at all  
  
I feel like nothing  
  
Cuz you don't know what it's like  
  
(Econoline Crush- "You don't know what it's like)  
  
  
  
"Now that was good sex," I comment through my panting, as Max rolls off of me and onto his side of the bed.  
  
"You can say that again," he agrees as he tucks his hands behind his head and gazes lazily towards the ceiling.  
  
"Now that was good sex," I tease, moving my torso over his so that my breasts are barely brushing his chest and our faces are aligned.  
  
"But you know, they say the third time's the charm," he rejoinders, his eyes holding a devilish and lustful gleam.  
  
"Is it really?" I question, my voice raw with desire.  
  
"Hmm, there's only one way to find out," he responds slyly, bringing his lips up to mine once more.  
  
His lips barely graze mine before one of our cell phones begins to ring. We both leap to our respective bedsides and dash to answer the phone, as there is a harsh punishment for not answering for no legitimate reason (mind you, there are very few legitimate reasons). And you can be sure that the punishment will be carried out. As my father tends to say; "threats are for the weak, and action for the strong, and we are very strong."  
  
"!Hable!"/"!Bueno!" We both answer on the second ring, though there is no one there to respond to my greeting.  
  
I place my phone back on the nightstand and look attentively towards Max, wanting to find out who was calling and what we have to do.  
  
"?Kyle? !Calmate! !?Tu hicistes que?! ?Ahora? !Estas loco! Son las tres menos cuarto en la manana, en un noche de escuela. Nosotros no estamos limpando eso problema. !Esto es tu problema, lo repara!" Max screams into the phone. He continues to clutch the device against his ear as his expression becomes more and more enraged. (Yes. Calm down. You did what?! Now? You're crazy! It's two forty-five in the morning, on a school night. We are not cleaning up this problem. This is your problem, you fix it!)  
  
"!NO! No estamos ayudando tu eso veces. N." Max is cut short, and his appearance changes drastically, which could only mean one thing; the person on the other line has made a threat that Max knows will be carried through if he doesn't comply. (We aren't helping you this time)  
  
"Bien. Estamos saliendo ahora." With that, Max hangs up the phone and slams it down on his bedside table. (Fine. We're leaving now)  
  
"What the hell did he do now?" I ask as I jump out of bed and begin to get dressed.  
  
"A better question would be what didn't he do," Max responds as he pulls on a pair of boxers, dark jeans and a black T-shirt.  
  
I shake my head as I slip into my skintight leather pants and a black halter-top, completely omitting any form of undergarment. "But I take it that it went too far this time, didn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, he's dead," Max answers, grabbing his leather jacket off of his desk chair and throwing mine to me in the process.  
  
Who's dead?!" I shriek, whipping around to face him.  
  
"Anderson. Kyle killed Anderson over the money," Max explains.  
  
"God damnit!" I shout harshly as we race out the side door of the estate and into the garage.  
  
"That's what I said," he replies, jumping over the door of my black 2003 Ferrari.  
  
I rev up the engine and peel out of the garage and down the lengthy driveway. "So where the hell are we going, anyways?" I ask.  
  
"The Annex, and we're gonna need back up. I'm calling the others. Should I call a Superior, or is this too small scale?" Max questions, grabbing the central cell off of the console.  
  
"Lets see how messy things are when we get there," I respond, my eyes locked on the road ahead of me.  
  
"Good idea." Max presses send and waits for Maria or Miguel to answer.  
  
"El Annex. Cinco minutos." Max states quickly and hangs up. (The Annex. Five minutes)  
  
"She'll be there in three," I remark, turning onto an unlit back road.  
  
"Isabella, el Annex. Cinco minutos." (See above.)  
  
We speed down the road, both too enraged to speak, and, after about a half a mile, turn onto a dirt pathway leading to the Annex. The woods separate into a clearing with a run-down shack and a muddy lake. Max and I jump out of the car and race towards Kyle, who is pacing back and forth next to Anderson's body.  
  
"What the hell did you do!?" Max screams at Kyle, giving him a hard shove with his powers.  
  
"He owed me, and he didn't pay," Kyle retorts, shrugging off Max's action.  
  
"He owed you what?" Max growls, his features dark and intense.  
  
"500 g's." He responds, trying to keep his cool.  
  
"That's why you killed him? Over chump change? You fucking idiot! What the fuck were you thinking?" Max explodes. "He was our best informant, he kept the cops off of our case, he brought in the goods, and you killed him! I should kill you."  
  
"Max," I begin, placing my hand on his forearm. "Don't do anything irrational. If you kill him, you will be in a load of deep shit that I doubt you'll be able to get out of."  
  
Max's eyes meet mine and he nods his head in agreement. Suddenly, we hear the screeching of tires coming down the road, and Maria's silver BMW Z8 and Alje's yellow Lamborghini spin to a halt next to my Ferrari. Maria, Miguel, Isabella, and Alje emerge from the vehicles and are immediately by our sides, their eyes locked on Anderson's body.  
  
"What the fuck, Kyle?" Miguel bellows.  
  
"We need to call a Superior," Maria states, her voice cold and brash.  
  
"I'm calling Darious," I inform the group, knowing that my brother will give Kyle the worst punishment possible without actually killing him.  
  
"Shit, Liz, no. Please don't call your brother," Kyle begs, knowing exactly what's in store for him.  
  
"I'm calling," I reiterate, grabbing my cell out of my back pocket.  
  
I hit the speed dial and wait for someone to pick up. After two rings, Darious answers.  
  
"Hable!" His rough voice responds.  
  
"Darious, esto es Liz. Kyle acaba de mortar Anderson. Necesitimos ayudar, imediamente." I explain quickly. (Darious, it's Liz. Kyle has just killed Anderson. We need help, now.)  
  
"Estas tu fucking seria? (Are you fucking serious?)  
  
"Si. Por favor, venes rapidamente. Estamos en el Annex," I plead. (Yes. Please, come quickly. We are in the Annex)  
  
"Okay. Estoy viendo. Me das dos minutos," he replies angrily. (I'm coming. Give me two minutes.)  
  
I hang up the phone and shove it back into my pocket. I run my fingers through my hair and sigh. "Two minutes," I inform the group.  
  
"Did someone tell Gnyhalliyah?" Isabella questions suddenly, her head snapping up from its bowed position.  
  
"Shit." Max mumbles. "My god, Kyle. You do realize that not only did you kill our best source of information, but you also killed your girlfriend's brother?"  
  
"Lay off, alright?" Kyle blows up at Max, his face turning a deep crimson. "I get the picture, I don't need this."  
  
Just then, Darious' cobalt blue McClarin F1 turbo (there are only 100 of these cars in the entire world) rips into the Annex and comes to a screeching halt next to our cars. A six foot eight, two hundred pound man steps out of the car, clad completely in black, with his dark brown hair hanging messily over his face. His features are dark and intense with the exception of his Irish Eyes; half piercing blue, half sea green. His body type is identical to Max's; he is perfectly muscled and athletically built, though he looks slightly lankier, as he is a good four inches taller. A woman (Xavara) also exits the car, via the opposite door, and proceeds towards us. She is of average height, standing at about five foot seven, and built very similarly to Isabella. Her hair is a gorgeous auburn, falling in perfect waves at her shoulders. Her skin is fair and her eyes are a light blue-gray, giving her a soft countenance. She is dressed in a dark brown sued skirt and knee high leather boots, as well as one of my brother's many leather jackets and a black tube top. Before Darious even speaks a word, he raises his hand towards Kyle and lets out a power surge that sends Kyle flying ten feet in the air.  
  
"Get out of here, we'll handle this. One witness is enough," Darious instructs brusquely, his gaze dead set on Kyle's position.  
  
"Darious, please don't kill him," I insist.  
  
"Don't worry, princessa, I wasn't planning on it," he replies, his voice soft and compassionate, as it always is when he speaks to either myself or Xavara. "Oh, Alyzaben? Before you go, would you doctor up Anderson's body and give him post mortem signs of an asthma attack? You know, put him in his hiking gear, or something. Make it look like it was clean cut statis asthmaticus."  
  
I nod my head, knowing that I have no choice but to do this, as it is my turn. Max follows me over to the body as I easily heal all his wounds and abrasions and change his clothing from jeans and a long sleeved shirt to his typical hiking garb. I increase the decomposition of the corps by seven hours (as I knew he had been out at that time, and the only people who had seen him had been my father, my brother, and myself), as well as remove all fingerprints that might have been present.  
  
"There, it's done," I announce, taking the hand that Max offers to me.  
  
"Good job. Go home and tell Papi what happened, then tomorrow afternoon come here and call the police, tell them the story, and this will be over," he commands.  
  
I nod in response, and the six of us return to our respective cars and head home.  
  
The entire ride home the both of us our silent. This is a significant event for me, as it is the fiftieth death I have been some part of in the last two years. I have always know that murder was going to be a part of my life, and I've always understood that being the daughter of the most powerful Mafia boss in the United States of America comes with ramifications, but it is still hard to cope with what I see on a daily basis. Yet I guess one could say that this is the price I pay for being Untouchable, that this is my curse, and there isn't a thing in the slightest I can do to change it.  
  
"C'mon, baby, lets get to bed, we've school tomorrow," Max reminds me, snaking an arm over my shoulder. "The first day at LS."  
  
I slide my arm around his waist and step in the elevator, too tired to even contemplate walking up three flights of stairs. It reaches the third floor (the first of the two bedroom floors) and we trudge slowly out and down the long hall to my room. Once inside, Max shuts the door behind us, we strip out of our "work clothes" and fall inexorably into bed. Max immediately takes my body into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest, as if he is trying to protect me from all the evils of the world. And it is for that single moment before I drift into unconsciousness I feel that everything is alright; that I am safe.  
  
center*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ" The alarm clock blares, startling me back into consciousness.  
  
"Errrmm," I moan, slapping a hand over my eyes and turning away from the glow of the morning sun.  
  
Beside me, Max yawns and pulls me closer to him, burying his face in my hair.  
  
"Not getting up, too early," Max grumbles, his breath tickling my neck.  
  
"First day of school, 'member?" I remind him, turning in his arms to face him.  
  
"Shit," he mumbles. "I completely forgot."  
  
"You were the one who reminded me last night, you know," I respond, placing a kiss on his forehead.  
  
"Hmm, I know. I guess we better get up," he answers, kissing my lips lightly before releasing me from his arms and sitting up.  
  
I stumble out of bed and Max and I begin to run through our morning routine. We hop into the shower, taking turns washing each other's hair and body, then dry each other off. Max uses his powers to dry my hair, and I use mine to do his. We brush our teeth, then Max slathers lotion all over my body, as he does every morning. We finally emerge from the bathroom, completely naked, and go in search of the day's wardrobe.  
  
"It's funny," I comment, taking a pair of tan Banana Republic flair chinos out of my closet. "how different our work clothing is from our school clothing."  
  
"God, I know. I mean, who would ever believe that you wear midriff halter-tops, skin tight leather pants, and knee high leather boots? Or that I even own a leather jacket?" Max agrees, slipping his Abercrombie & Fitch khakis on.  
  
"Seriously," I concur with his statement, tossing him his blue Armani Exchange sweater.  
  
I slide my red cashmere Ralph Lauren V-neck over my head and turn to face Max. "Who would ever believe that yuppie little Liz Parker is such a feral, sultry Mafia princess who has been a part of fifty murders, owns a shit load of weapons, is a sex fiend, and, oh yeah, an alien too?"  
  
Max just smiles and wraps his arms around my waist. "I hate to say it, baby, but I don't think ANYONE would believe this cute, innocent, and perfect angel that is standing right in front of me. But you know, I see through it all. You are one BAD girl."  
  
"Hey, you're no Gabriel either!" I jest, linking my hands behind his neck.  
  
"C'mon," he insists. "I'm starving!"  
  
He kisses me lovingly and releases me from his grasp, only to take my hand seconds later. We proceed down the long, winding corridor until we come upon the express elevator, which goes straight to the breakfast room.  
  
"Buenos dias, Rosita," I greet our maid politely. (Good morning, Rosie)  
  
"Ah, senor, senorita, Buenos dias. ?Como estan? She replies cordially. (Ah, sir, ma'am, good morning. How are you?)  
  
"Eh, asi asi. ?Y tu?" I respond. (Hm, alright, and you?)  
  
"Bien, gracias. Y usted, Senor Gomez, ?como esta?" She questions of Max, using his given name, rather than his pseudonym of Evans. (Well, thank you. And you, Mr. Gomez, how are you?)  
  
"?Yo? Regular, gracias," Max responds, his voice distant. (Me? Fine thanks.)  
  
"Usted esta muy consado, ?no?" She observes. (You're very tired, aren't you?)  
  
"Si, y Alyzaben tambien," Max agrees. (Yes, and Liz also)  
  
"?Tienen hambre, ustedes?" She questions. (Are you hungry ~ directly translated: Have you hunger, emphasized)  
  
"Si, a mi me gustaria cereal caliente con un poco leche y juego de naranjado, por favor," I instruct. (Yes, I would like (emphasized) cereal with a bit of milk and orange juice, please)  
  
"Bien. ?Y usted, senor? ?Que le gustaria, usted?" She asks of Max.  
  
"Um, Churros y un Canoli, por favor," Max replies. (Churros, which also can be translated as "floods", are Spanish/Latin American pastries with cinnamon and sugar sprinkled all over the crust. Depending on the country the chef is from, they might be filled with chocolate or sweet cream.)  
  
"Ah, bien. Dame dos minutos," Rosie complies, making her way towards the kitchen. (Very well, then. Give me two minutes.)  
  
"Rosita," I call after her.  
  
"Si, senorita," she replies immediately, turning to face me.  
  
"?Donde estan mis padres?" I question. (Where are my parents?)  
  
"Su Papa esta en la biblioteca major en su oficina. Y su Mama esta alli, tambien, yo creo," she offers politely. (Your father is in the master library in his office. And you mother is there also, I believe.)  
  
"Gracias, esta todos," I insist. (Thank you, that's all.)  
  
"Les llamare cuando la comida esta listos," Rosita offers, as Max and I exit the breakfast room through the swinging mahogany door. (I will call you when the food is ready)  
  
We make our way through the small formal dining room as well as the large one by which the ballroom is adjacent. We enter the massive primary den where most of the "family" meetings are held, and then pass into the largest of the four formal sitting rooms, which we only use on occasion. The billiards room is connected to the parlor, which has a whole slew of secret storage facilities beneath it, which we mostly use for weapon storage and interrogation areas. We finally enter the main foyer and move onto the lower east wing, which is where all of our offices and libraries are. The main library is stationed at the very end of this wing, as it is almost the size of the wing itself. In total, we have approximately 800,000 books stored there, most of which have never even been used by us. At the back of the library, parallel to the entrance, is my father's office which spans two stories and can hold over two hundred people comfortably.  
  
"Papi?" I question cautiously, as I rap gently upon the door.  
  
"Princessa! Enter, enter," his voice projects robustly through the thick doors.  
  
Max and I step into the room to find him seated at his desk with my mother standing at his side.  
  
"Good morning, Alyzaben, Maximus, how are you two doing?" My mother asks softly, her piercing blue eyes shimmering with a sad smile.  
  
"Yes, you both had quite the evening, now didn't you?" My father adds sympathetically.  
  
"We're alright. Darious told you?" Max responds as well as question.  
  
"Yes, he did, and I was very, how shall we say, enraged, by the events," he comments, rising from his chair.  
  
"Dominic, this is not their fault," my mother reminds him.  
  
"Oh, of course, Nancy, I well know that. I just can't believe that that bastard did what he did," my father explains.  
  
"Liz, did everything work out?" He interrogates, referring to the cover-up.  
  
"Yes. All Max and I have to do is go down to the Annex and call the police this afternoon," I inform him.  
  
"That's fine. Now, you two should go eat because you have school," my mother jumps in.  
  
Max and I nod and turn quickly towards the exit.  
  
"Oh, Lizzy?" My father calls after me.  
  
"Si, Papi?" I respond immediately, spinning on my heels to face him.  
  
"Take your Cadillac Escalade or your Navigator, I don't want any of your sports cars getting scratched," he instructs.  
  
"Si, Papi. Vosotros Teneis un buen dia," I bid them, then slip my hand into Max's and walk out. (Yes, daddy. You all have a good day)  
  
center*~*~*~*~*~* Scene: LS High, 7:45 AM  
  
Max swings my 2003 black Escalade into the parking lot of our new school and cuts the engine. This is the first year of our entire lives that we haven't attended Exavior Academy in Rome, Italy, so this is going to be a very different experience. Max and I sit here in silence for a moment, neither of wanting to accept that this was our new school, and that we would never return to our beloved academy in the Old Country. But this is what our parents deemed necessary, and so be it. We have come to the age in our world when the shroud, which once sheltered our eyes from all that our families were, is pulled and the truth is thrown directly at us. And now it is our turn to do what we must to not only to uphold the oath taken for us the day we were made a part of it, (Live for the family, and die by the family) but also to continue the lineage of our family. In our lives, Max and I have three givens. 1) By the beginning of our freshman year of college we will be engaged and by the end of that year we will be married. 2) We will have children by our third year of college, and 3) we will succeed my parents as the heads of the Italian/Hispanic Mafia organization, as well as the Irish Mafia. Of course, neither Max nor I are complaining about the first two givens, as we have been completely obsessed with each other since the day we met, but we are not too content with the third. Yet there isn't a single thing that we might do about it.  
  
"Well?" I finally speak up, meeting Max's worried eyes with mine.  
  
"Let's just wait for everyone else," he responds quietly. "Hey, c'mere," he instructs opening his arms.  
  
I climb over the central console and sit down on his lap, his arms enveloping my body and his head resting on my shoulder.  
  
"This is all going to work out, baby, you'll see. And if it doesn't, we'll still have each other, right?" He soothes me lovingly.  
  
"Always," I echo, my mind far away from here.  
  
After a few moments, Maria and Miguel pull up in his BMW 745 Li, followed immediately by Alje and Isabella in her Jaguar. Max and I exit our vehicle to greet our "family".  
  
"Liz, how you doing, chica?" Maria questions, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek.  
  
"Well, taking into account that we are at a fucking public school? Like shit. But hey, I'll live," I reply, returning her gestures.  
  
"I hear ya, babe," she empathizes.  
  
Isabella takes both my hands and kisses my cheeks, which is a customary Italian greeting, and one we use quite often.  
  
"Chavela, ?que tal?" I question. (Chavela, what's up?/How are you doing?)  
  
"This is possibly the worst day ever," she remarks, her thoughts speaking for all of us.  
  
"But this is what they want, and this is what they get." Miguel comments. "They need us here, not in Europe. We're adults, guys. We might only be 16, but in our family, it's more like we're 46. And with age comes responsibility."  
  
"Sometimes you're way too much like you're father," I observe, giving him a hug at the same time.  
  
Once we've all greeted one another, we pair off into couples, only to combine into one unit. Alje tosses his arm over my shoulder, and Max over Maria's and together we slowly move towards the prison otherwise known as high school. As it is 7:45 in the morning, the parking lot is buzzing with activity, and almost the entire driving population of LS is trying to figure out who the hell we are.  
  
"Recuerdan usar los pseudonyms," I remind everyone as we enter the building. (Remember to use the pseudonyms)  
  
"A mi no me quierra estar aqui," Maria states. (I do not want to be here emphasized)  
  
"!Que odio!" Isabella exclaims, looking around at the masses of people swarming the halls. (What a horror/This sucks)  
  
"Estoy de acuerdo," I reply. (I agree)  
  
"Okay. Necesicitamos encontar (c) los servicos de estudiantes," Max insists, taking on his natural role as leader. (All right, we need to find student services)  
  
"Ah, esta aqui," I gesture towards a sign reading "Student Services". (Here it is)  
  
We enter the small office and a stout, middle-aged woman with a bad dye-job welcomes us with a smile.  
  
"Can I help you?" She offers kindly.  
  
"Yes, we're the new transfer students, we need to pick our schedules," Max informs her, his voice reeking of boredom.  
  
"Ah, welcome to LS. I have them right here," she replies, sifting through a pile of papers. "Alright. Maria DeLuca?"  
  
Maria steps forward and takes the slip of paper from her.  
  
"Isabel Evans?"  
  
Maria hands Isabel's schedule to her.  
  
"Maxwell Evans?"  
  
Max accepts his with a brief nod.  
  
"Michael Gurine?"  
  
Michael takes his sharply, his annoyance getting the best of him.  
  
"Let's see. Um, Elizabeth Parker, and Alexander Whittman."  
  
She hands Alje and I the pieces of paper and turns to the entire group with a smile.  
  
"Wow, did you really spent the first eleven years of your schooling at a boarding school in Rome?" She exclaims, looking up from our files, seemingly impressed.  
  
"That's what it says there, now isn't it?" Isabella rejoinders snidely.  
  
"Chavela, Calmate, amora. Yo se que tu esta enojada, pero necesicitamos estar divertidos," Alje insists, sliding an arm around her shoulder and kissing her hair.  
  
"Yo se que necesito ser divertida, pero a mi no me quierra estar aqui. Y yo dije esto despues, y yo decira esto un ves mas," she retorts stubbornly.  
  
"Estoy de acuerdo, amora, estoy de acuerdo," Alje sighs, shaking his head slightly.  
  
"Um." The secretary strains, unsure of the exchange that is occurring.  
  
"Sorry. Are we all set?" Max intervenes.  
  
"Yes. Now as you can see, you all have been put in the same classes at the same time; as requested. If you have any other questions, please feel free to stop in to see me. You are all in West house, which is where you will find your mailboxes and guidance counselor," she answers, a smile plastered on her face once more.  
  
"Thank you," I call over my shoulder as the six of us exit the office.  
  
"Alright, what do everyone's schedules look like?" Max questions, stopping outside of Student Services.  
  
"I have all the same classes as you," I comment, comparing mine to his.  
  
"Good," he responds with a big smile. "What about you guys?"  
  
"I have the same schedule as Maria," Miguel replies.  
  
"And I have the same one as Alje," Isabella answers.  
  
"What classes do we all have together?" I ask, glancing at Maria's schedule.  
  
"Well, we all have chem. block one and AP Bio block five," Alje remarks. "Ooh, and we all have block three free."  
  
"Excellent. And it looks like we're all in the same homeroom," Isabella notes.  
  
"Speaking of homeroom, it's 7:50," Max announces.  
  
"Okay, now we just need to find room 220, which seems to be right here," Maria points to the room on a map located on the wall behind them.  
  
Max slides his arm around my waist and drops his hand into my back pocket. "This is going to be very interesting," he mumbles.  
  
We make our way down the long corridor and finally come upon the room in question. Miguel pushes the door open and about thirty heads pop up to see who's coming in so late.  
  
"Ah, you must be the new students," an frumpy, older woman remarks, peering at us through well-worn bifocals.  
  
"Does it look like we've been here before?" Maria offers a collective response as we step by the desk, her tone sharp and spiteful.  
  
"My, my, you've got quite the attitude," the teacher rejoinders, a bit taken aback by Maria's response.  
  
Miguel shoots the teacher a venomous look as he slides into a desk and pulls Maria down onto his lap.  
  
"Burreja," Alje comments quietly as he too sits down and Isabella places herself easily on top of the desk, facing him.  
  
"Estoy de acuerdo," I remark as I position myself sideways on Max's lap.  
  
"Excuse me, but you're only allowed one to a desk, and there are enough desks to go around," the teacher instructs brashly while the other students look on in silent shock.  
  
"Yes, but you see those desks are spread throughout the room and these three are right here. We want to be together, and what we want is what we get, and you best understand that from day one," Isabella snaps at her.  
  
"Excuse me? You did not just take that tone with me, young lady," the teacher explodes, appalled by Isabella's behavior. "What is your name?"  
  
"My name is Isabel Evans, and yes I did take that tone with you. Do you know why? Because I can. And do you know why I can? Because my father can have you fired at the snap of my fingers. All of our parents can. Our parents can have this entire school destroyed in a matter of days and a whole new set of faculty instituted at a single word from any one of us. We do not want to be here. We want to be a thousand miles away at our boarding school in Rome, but we are here because of family business and therefore our households are walking on eggshells to keep us happy. And you better start walking on them too. Because if you so much as try to report this to the administration, I will have you gone by first period. Don't think that I'm not that vicious. I can promise you that we are six of the most powerful and venomous people you will ever meet; and if we don't like you, we will do something about it," Isabella fires out, her voice as cold and poisonous as a serpent.  
  
The teacher is completely speechless, as is the rest of the classroom. Instead of taking it any further, Isabel simply turns to face the rest of us and smiles.  
  
"Hey, whose manor is the Gala at tonight?" Alje questions easily.  
  
"You know that's a really good question. I think it's at mine, but Papi didn't mention anything," I reply.  
  
"I know that it's not at our place," Max adds referring to him and Isabella. "Because the east wing is still under construction and the grand ballroom is being redone, and I know my mother would never let anyone see one of her houses in a state of disrepair."  
  
"And it's not at the Estube's, which is a really good thing," Maria remarks. "Nor is it at my place. So unless it's at yours, Alex, or yours, Lizzy, I don't know where it could be."  
  
"I'll call my manor assistant, he's the one who handles all of the planning and coordinating of the events. Now, which one does the Sudbury house?" I ponder, scanning through my long list of speed dial names.  
  
"Oh, I know, I can never keep all my different servants straight. The only ones I know are those who go everywhere with us. But the ones who are stationed at the different houses? Forget it," Maria comments.  
  
"Thank god for memo's!" I exclaim, as I have labeled each person's name with the name of the manor in which they work. "It's Christopher Crane."  
  
I type in his speed dial code and wait for an answer.  
  
"Christopher Crane!" A high-pitched voice answers cheerfully.  
  
"Christopher, it's Liz," I reply with equal zest.  
  
"Ah, senorita Castelli, what might I be able to do for you?" He responds gleefully.  
  
"I was simply wondering if this evenings Gala is to be held at the mansion tonight," I ask of him.  
  
"Why yes it is," he answers.  
  
"Excellent. Oh, and Christopher? Might you be able to phone my hair stylist and tell him I need him at the manor by five thirty? Oh, and might you also call my evening wear coordinator and send her out to Ralph Lauren's or Armani to pick out an evening gown? Something sleek, no back, perhaps? Oh, and a new pair of Enzo Angelini's too." I request.  
  
"Why certainly, senorita! It's been a pleasure talking to you," he complies happily.  
  
"Ciao, Christopher!" I bid him farewell.  
  
"Ciao!" He replies and hangs up the phone.  
  
"Well that's done," I remark, then realize that everyone else is speaking with their personal assistants to get their evening affairs in order, while the other students listen with disbelief and whisper comments among themselves.  
  
"Ugh, I'm so sick of all of these Galas," Maria whines as she replaces her cell phone back in its proper place.  
  
"Tell me about it," Isabella agrees, sticking hers in her back pocket. "It's nice getting dressed up once every few weeks and making an appearance at some of the more important events, but this is what, the eighth one this month? It's preposterous."  
  
"At least we don't have one every evening like we did last winter. That was living hell," Max comments.  
  
"You know, I don't think I would mind if we were just like the other hundreds of guests, but we had to play the political games and make nice to all the peons, just because they were the sons and daughters of important family friends," Maria remarks.  
  
"But it keeps our hierarchy. More importantly, it keeps us in control," Miguel reminds us.  
  
"Very true. But really, tonight's Gala is useless. It's was simply instituted to welcome us home and get next years agenda in order," I insist.  
  
"I get the feeling that it's more than we're thinking. All of the Superiors are going to be there as well as the Associates and the Capos; and that means that there's something big going down. This isn't just a party, it's a tactics seminar," Alje surmises.  
  
"Shit, I should have realized that. But wouldn't that just be held by itself?" Isabella questions.  
  
"It's too important and needs a guise. This is why we're home, but I get the funny feeling that we're going to be at the Ridge by Friday," Alje continues.  
  
"Wait, if we're going to be sent there, why the fuck didn't they just leave us in Roma?" Miguel explodes.  
  
"Because we're going to be in The City by Monday. That's where this is going, you know," Alje clarifies, leaning back in his seat with a heavy sigh.  
  
"Oh, fuck!" I exclaim as it all falls in front of my face. "This makes perfect sense now. It's all because of Anderson. Think about it. When he screwed Kyle over with the loan all those months ago, it started a whole chain of events. But more important are the illicit transactions that must have taken place. Now we have to clean this up, and you know it isn't going to be pretty."  
  
"But Anderson's." Maria strains, eluding to what happened last night.  
  
"Doesn't matter. Kyle did something to put a stick up his ass, so now all of those people who Anderson was turning in circles have information on us that they shouldn't. Which means we have to fix that. But Alex is right. We're going to be sent to the Ridge to throw those bastards off our tails, and then we're going to come up from behind when they're least expecting us," I explain simply.  
  
"And everything will be back to normal," Isabella adds with a smug smile.  
  
"Not exactly," Max jumps in. "Our lives are changing drastically tonight. We're going from princes and princesses, to kings and queens; we're being made." Max's voice falls to an intense whisper.  
  
We all freeze, as we finally realize just how serious this is. Though we have always been tucked deeply within the three Mafias, our roles are finally becoming official, and not only are we being made, but we are the six new Head Capos. Of course our fathers are still running things, but we are right beneath them, which means that we are to make all of the major decisions, and we control hundreds of Associates, as we are now Superiors. However, this isn't only a milestone in the Mafia because of our age, but it is also the first generation of women in the Mob. For many years, women have always been behind the scenes, but never directly involved or fully informed. Yet the tables have turned and we, without choice, have been tossed into the grind and there is no way out.  
  
"Wow, I.wow," Alje mumbles, shaking his head.  
  
"I don't know if I like this or not," Maria shakes her head.  
  
"Are you kidding me?! This is the biggest fucking honor of our lives! We are the six youngest people ever to be given this honor. Not even your brother, Liz, was this young," Miguel rapidly disputes his girlfriend's comment.  
  
"I don't know either, it just all seems too sudden. Too soon," Isabella adds. "But I'm still excited."  
  
"I," I begin to offer my opinion, but I am cut off by the first period bell.  
  
We scramble out of our seats and breeze by the teacher's desk, each tossing her a conceited glance, accompanied by satisfied smirks. Once out in the hallway, which is flooded with students, Max turns to me and wraps both of his arms around my waist.  
  
"My queen," he whispers, his forehead pressed against mine.  
  
"My king," I reply, kissing him passionately.  
  
"All hail!" Maria teases, bowing over her hand.  
  
"Hey, they're not the only royalty," Miguel reminds her, grabbing her ass and picking her up off the ground.  
  
"Well nor are the two of you," Alje retaliates.  
  
"Stealing our lime light, are you?" I jest, smacking Miguel and Alje lightly.  
  
We all begin to laugh hysterically, causing everyone in earshot to stop and stare at us. Once we finally settle down, we begin to search for our Chemistry classroom, now eagerly looking forward to this evening's festivities. 


End file.
